the poem her belly marched through me as
one army.   From her nostrils to her feet
she smelled of silence.   The inspired cleat
of her glad leg pulled into a sole mass
my separate lusts
                            her hair was like a gas
evil to feel.   Unwieldy….
                                        the bloodbeat
in her fierce laziness tried to repeat
a trick of syncopation Europe has
—. One day i felt a mountain touch me where
I stood (maybe nine miles off).   It was spring
sun-stirring.   sweetly to the mangling air
muchness of buds mattered.   a valley spilled
its tickling river in my eyes,
                                              the killed
world wriggled like a twitched string.

  • 0
  • 0
Login to comment...

Other works by E. E. Cummings...

Some poets who follow E. E. Cummings...

CLEMENTINE Laura Bertolini Dusmoros Lila Jane Devraj Dutt Daphne Teixeira